The nice thing about the Bible is it doesn't give you too many facts. Two an a half lines and it tells you the whole story and that leaves you a great deal of freedom to elaborate on how it might have happened.
quote by Howard Nemerov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
There I was limited to what happened the same way I am with Riel. It doesn't feel like a great burden to have your story, to some degree, set. I am enjoying figuring out what I think is the most dramatic way of telling this set of historical facts.
quote by Chester Brown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Every Face Tells A Story
Look at the man in the corner, hes sitting all alone
His blankets are made out of cardboard,
His pillows are made out of stone
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
See the man walking on the water, see the light in his eyes
He came into the world with a message to tell,
He came into the world to die
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Youre always telling stories, youre always telling me lies
Youre always telling stories, why?
So think of yourself in the water, seeing your days flashing by
Its too late to see what you wanted to be,
Youve spent all your time, you must die
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Every face tells a story it never tells a lie
Step down
And make it work out right
Im trying to get to you with my warning
Been there
For nearly half the night
Look its nearly four in the morning
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why shouldn't poems...
…be hot out of a
news item – even if
it barely ranks as ‘poetry’ -
if it moves a would-be poet
more than many a poem…?
Here’s the story: Dr Jill Bolte Taylor,
who became a neuro-scientist because
her beloved brother was schizophrenic…
had an exceptional opportunity for research
when one morning a golf-ball-sized haemorrhage
in her left brain, gave her a stroke, which
she was able to observe as it happened…
becoming herself schizophrenic in a fashion,
so that one half of her brain said
this consciousness is boundless…
while the other half said, I’m me…
struggling to support one another as
for forty-five minutes, she tried
to find her office identity
in a blur of pixels that were a number
she must dial…
it took her eight observant years
to recover; now she tells the story,
(always herself, always as boundless
as her story):
some of us smiling through our tears, her tears,
her smiles..
maybe I could turn that into
more of a poem… but why?
Between these lines, between
she and me, I and you,
the boundless, too..
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freedom Does Mean
Freedom doesn't mean
You are free to do anything
But it does mean
You can do anything
In your own fashion
Provided your action
Doesn't lead to reaction
Doesn't encroach others right
Freedom doesn't give you right
Right to use you might
To do what you think is right
Freedom seeks from you
You to be just in your action
Unprejudiced in your view
Freedom gives opportunity
To capitalise your ability
Freedom does demand responsibility
From you
To take freedom in right sense
And don't do non-sense
And become a nuisance
To your society
To your community
To your country
Freedom does mean
You are not mean
It seeks from you
Respect others right
Without duty no right
poem by Shashikant Nishant Sharma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why We Tell Stories
For Linda Foster
I
Because we used to have leaves
and on damp days
our muscles feel a tug,
painful now, from when roots
pulled us into the ground
and because our children believe
they can fly, an instinct retained
from when the bones in our arms
were shaped like zithers and broke
neatly under their feathers
and because before we had lungs
we knew how far it was to the bottom
as we floated open-eyed
like painted scarves through the scenery
of dreams, and because we awakened
and learned to speak
2
We sat by the fire in our caves,
and because we were poor, we made up a tale
about a treasure mountain
that would open only for us
and because we were always defeated,
we invented impossible riddles
only we could solve,
monsters only we could kill,
women who could love no one else
and because we had survived
sisters and brothers, daughters and sons,
we discovered bones that rose
from the dark earth and sang
as white birds in the trees
3
Because the story of our life
becomes our life
Because each of us tells
the same story
but tells it differently
and none of us tells it
the same way twice
Because grandmothers looking like spiders
want to enchant the children
and grandfathers need to convince us
what happened happened because of them
and though we listen only
haphazardly, with one ear,
we will begin our story
with the word and
poem by Lisel Mueller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Truthiness is tearing apart our country, and I don't mean the argument over who came up with the word. I don't know whether it's a new thing, but it's certainly a current thing, in that it doesn't seem to matter what facts are. It used to be, everyone was entitled to their own opinion, but not their own facts. But that's not the case anymore. Facts matter not at all. Perception is everything.
quote by Stephen Colbert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pressman
By the light of the lamp I sit to type
my notes on tab at my side.
I don't see the sun much these days,
a fluorescent tan covers my hide.
How much impact shall I have this time?
My goal today is to reach the deadline.
I write between the lines. I deal with fantasy.
I report the facts. Give them to me, please.
Ham and egg salad on white bread...
keeps me company on nights like this.
A pack of mentholated cigarettes....
keeps my air nice and thick.
When I write, words flow like coins from a candy box.
Get out of my way. I've got something to say!
The pulse is beating louder now.
The cramps in my hands grow more intense
with each tik, tik, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap on the keys.
My social life is at an end so it seems to be.
Why don't I trample on your lawn today?
I'll take skies of blue, turn over old skies of grey.
I write between the lines. I deal with fantasy.
I am the pressman. Acknowledge me!
Mother always told me never stray too far from home.
The little lady said,
"Boy, you'll never have to be alone, because..."
You build with fountain pen.
You create the memory stain
You are the pressman.
Stand up straight, boy.
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Scheme
the seed sprouts
and tells the true story about
its being embedded
beneath
the coat of its being
beneath the fertile ground
promises of leaves
and roots
the sun is too harsh
to face
the moon too cold
survival is the aim
of every
red ant
the tree is big
and tall and the clouds
are friends
one day
it learns the song of the grasshopper
after which
the conversations become as nice
as buds
there are truths to hide
words to decorate
sweet
white lies
the story begins with
a whim
caprice its complication
there ought to be a nice ending
a freeing
it is all about the full blooming
of a red rose
i have all the petals inside my hands
to complete the
story
you love it
do not tell me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fundamental of Liar Chapter CXXXII: Tired
I'm tired of being rich
It doesn't give me challenge
I'm tired of keeping famous
It doesn't give me freedom
I'm tired of being powerful
It doesn't give me passion
I'm tired of keeping strong
It doesn't give me happiness
I'm tired of being perfect
It doesn't give me satisfaction
I'm tired of keeping beauty
It doesn't give me security
I'm tired of being lucky
It doesn't give me dream
I'm tired of keeping smile
It doesn't give me honesty
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pressman
By the light of the lamp I sit to type-my notes on tab at my side
I dont see the sun much these days
A fluorescent tan covers my hide
How much impact shall I have this time?
My goal today is to reac the deadline
I write between the lines
I deal with fantasy
I report the facts
Give them to me, please
Ham and egg sald on white bread keeps me company on nights like this
A pack of metholated cigarettes keeps my air nice and thick
When I write, words flow like coins from a candy box
Get out of my way
Ive got something to say
The pulse is beating louder now
The cramps in my hands grow more intense with each
Tik, tik, tap, tap, tap, tap, tap on the keys
My social life is at an end so it seems to be
Why dont I trample on your lawn today?
Ill take skies of blue, turn over skies of grey
I write between the lines
I deal with fantasy
I am the pressman
Acknowledge me
Mother always told me never stray too far from home
The little lady said, boy, youll never have to be alone,
Because,
You build with fountain pen
You create the memory stain
You are the pressman
Stand up straight, boy
song performed by by Primus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I had my choice, I'd pick a song that tells a story every time. There is a great deal of pleasure in doing the vocal on a number that you can put feeling into.
quote by Vaughn Monroe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Does the Bible Tell?
The Bible speaks about the love of God
That’s infinite and unfathomable;
The Bible talks of love of man for God,
Their obeisance and faith amidst great strife.
The Bible tells of stories of persons
Who chose the path of righteousness to vice;
The Bible narrates accounts of men
And women who stood steadfast in faith amidst trials.
The Bible depicts how God tests man’s love
And obedience to Will of Providence;
The Bible reveals all secrets of life
That’s everlasting and all heavenly.
The Bible lists the sins that are mortal,
Abominable and hated by God;
The Bible shows the path of righteousness
That leads all souls to the Abode of God.
The Bible hints how God can punish as well
And send all evil-hearted down to hell;
The Bible has the Words of the Maker
That will come true when earth and sun shall end!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 3-24-2009
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freedom Song
I sing for Freedom, from now on
I touch,
I see,
I hear,
I breathe,
I taste
“Freedom Freedom”
The sea and her waves sing “Freedom Freedom”
The ebb and the flow take me by the hand and dance once and again,
Rise and fall,
Up and down
That’s the rhythm of life
That's the rhythm of our dance too
To the rhythm of the Freedom Song they feel good,
I feel nice, I feel free
The tune was made by birds
Do,
Re,
Mi,
Fa,
Sol,
La,
Si
They compose
The Azure makes the song more and more splendid
The Great Smoky Mountains sings too Freedom Freedom
The sunbeam increases the song rhythm
The soft breeze makes the leaves clap,
Unconsciously my body keeps shivering
All flowers smile and sway on the rhythm of the Freedom Song
Freedom Freedom that’s all I feel,
That’s all they say, that’s all they sing and tune
What great moments! ! !
***Freedom Forever & Ever
{July 04,2009}
poem by Glamorous Enigma
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Internet's been so great, and it's so nice to have fans do nice, elaborate websites, but I think the downside is some of the things... for real fans to go on and see that 90 percent of the information isn't true or to see pictures that aren't really me.
quote by Denise Richards
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whales
The ways of the learned to me are 'Greek,'
And professors and such amaze me.
I know, without trying, the thing they seek,
Tho' I doubt if for that they'll praise me.
They want to discover why whales are big,
So they sail, at the risk of sinking,
In ships with elaborate, technical rig,
When the facts can be learned by thinking.
I can simply account for the size of a whale
And it doesn't seem much of a riddle
It's because he's so long from the nose to the tail
And in measurement round the middle.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Holy Bible
The Bible has the keys to heaven’s gates!
The living God (One most High) speaks, it states;
Its stories are real including dates;
The God of love and goodness, sin, He hates.
The bible tells the ways, Christians should live;
First place to soul’s upliftment, man must give;
The more we read, the more wisdom we get;
The ‘blind and deaf’ will one day much regret.
The Bible speaks of many mysteries;
Old Testament is full of histories;
“Every word will come true, ” the Lord, God says.
The man is saved who well repents and prays!
All men must read the bible’s every page;
When life is lived by it, you turn a sage;
The gospel tells of Jesus Christ’s message;
For men who live in sins, hell is the wage!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 9-7-2006
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Freedom Is Never Free
They tell me
'Freedom is never free.'
I know that-
More than most realize.
Freedom cost us more
Than we should have to give.
Freedom cost us blood.
It cost us the lives
Of our fathers,
Our sons,
Our brothers.
But while freedom is never free,
Remember-
It has been bought at great price,
And so is a thing of great value.
We must defend it,
From those who would take it away.
The defense of our freedoms
Will cost us-
More than we wish to pay.
But we must pay, to defend,
For if we try to make freedom free,
We forget-
True freedom is never free.
poem by James Grengs
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He doesn’t love me
He doesn’t love me
And I don’t need a clue or story
That I should give up, I better give up
I mustn’t let this feeling to live
He could slap me through my heart
Word always glued in my mouth
But everything I do is for him
He has a power in me
Tangles severe complication
He always screwing my mind
I can’t get him out of my head
I can not even hate him
He doesn’t love me
He doesn’t even look at me
But I don’t care, do I care?
He is my only reason to breath
He doesn’t love me
And I’m always out of his door
I continue hope, a broken hope
He will open a little for me
He leaves a scar that last forever
I always have a right to forget
But my love is blind, how could you help?
It’s easy to say than to go away
He doesn’t love me
And I don’t want pity or sorry
That he will never love me
Of all the worst things in the world could be
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Give Me A Thing Of Beauty
Beauty
Enters a room unannounced
It is unassuming
Noticed and this is all that counts
Give me a thing of beauty
Subtle, elaborate
More beautiful when inhabited
Uncontested by a soul
So blessed its mere presence can heal
Those who are contaminated - by it being revealed
Beauty
Exits in bloom with great fanfare
Glad to be of service
It is more than happy to share
Novelties & pleasantries…
…And the splendor they bring
Give me a thing of beauty
It is a beautiful thing
poem by Tony Haynes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To You
Well if the same thing happened to you
Would you still put me through what you put me through?
If it happened to you. what if it happened to you?
What if it happened a man kept shaking you down
But you cant get a ride to his side of town?
If it happened to you. what if it happened to you?
What if happened to you? keep it out of my shoes.
And if youre stepping on toes, keep it outta my nose.
cos if the same thing happened to me
Well, it wont be as bad as it used to be.
If it happened toyou. what if it happened to you?
What if it happened to you?
What if it happened to you?
What if it happened to you, too?
What if it happens to you?
What if it happens to you?
What if happens to you? keep it out of my shoes.
And if youre stepping on toes, keep it outta my nose.
cos if the same thing happened to me
Well, it wont be as bad as it used to be.
If it happened to you. what if it happened to you?
What if it happened to you?
What am I going to do?
What if it happened to you?
Well, what if happened to you?
* repeat until fade: what if happened to you?
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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